Monday, August 28, 2006

Pros and cons

There are good things and bad things about changing jobs within the same company. Good things include not losing cool co-workers and friends, not having to move, and not having to learn your way around a new building.

The bad thing I have discovered in the past couple of days: no time for blogging since I'm finishing up my old job and learning my new one all at the same time.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Stay tuned

I just wrote a whole post and then deleted it because I decided that it wasn't very entertaining.

I've got nothing, evidently.

However, I think I can manage to rant about our neighbors tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006


I was at a gathering on Saturday night - people that I work with and their spouses. The only child there was about nine years old, and she did a pretty good job of entertaining herself most of the night. By about 11:00, though, she had tired of that and was looking for some socialization from the adults.

I asked her if she knew any jokes. I'm terrible at remembering jokes, but I enjoy them so much. She said she didn't really know any and then proceeded to regale us with non-jokes for at least 45 minutes. Here's an example: Why did the light bulb burn out? Because it doesn't have a brain!

Of course, we would have to guess answers before she would tell us the correct answer, which resulted in some actual jokes. (These responses were never "correct," by the way.)

Why is the skeleton red?
Because he's embarrassed that he's naked.

Why does the elephant walk so slow?
Because he has junk in his trunk.

And my two favorites because I made them up myself . . .

Why do spiders weave webs?
Because they can't knit.

Why do cows wear bells around their necks?
Because their horns don't work.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Bon bons for breakfast

Our volleyball tournament was last night. It was single-elimination, which means once you lose, you're out. I may have mentioned that this year, they lumped all the teams into one league instead of two. So half the teams are really good and the other half aren't. That means that half the time we have fun, competitive games, and the rest of the time, we just try not to get hurt.

In the first round of the tournament, we played a really good team, and we didn't win. We also didn't get hurt, which was actually the main objective. Unfortunately, that meant we were out of the tournament. The rest of the tournament games were between the good teams (since they had knocked the mediocre teams out in the first round), so we hung around to watch how the game should be played.

I had been feeling pretty proud of myself all day because I had upped my mileage on Tuesday and Thursday to 2.4 miles. Woo hoo! That pride was quickly eliminated when the team sitting next to us on the bleachers started talking about running.

Evidently, several of them are training for a marathon and/or have run marathons in the past. They kept talking about the run they were planning for Saturday. 18 miles! You can see why my 2.4 was not so exciting anymore.

The worst part was that they wouldn't stop talking about it. I think they talked about running for at least 30 minutes. The whole time, I could only hear 18 miles, 18 miles, 18 miles, 18 miles . . . By the end of the night, I was feeling like I might as well eat bon bons in the mornings instead of bothering with my measly little runs.

I got over it though - 2 miles again today.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

As requested

Several months ago, a couple of our friends happened to be in town. We met up with them at their hotel and walked several blocks to a restaurant we thought they'd like. Well, the owners had decided (without asking us, by the way) it would be a good time for a vacation, so the place was closed. Instead of walking back the way we came, we decided to walk a few blocks farther to have drinks before dinner.

We went to a rooftop bar that had a live band. A LOUD live band. The atmosphere at this place is great except that they have a hard time getting the volume right. So the four of us yelled at each other over a pitcher of sangria.

At some point, the topic of movies came up, I guess, because I was yelling something about "The 40 Year Old Virgin," which we had seen recently. Unfortunately, the music stopped before I finished yelling. To the people within 20 feet of us, it sounded like this:

blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah VIRGIN!

All the people at the neighboring tables (and perhaps in the entire city) put down their drinks to stare at me. If I was a teenager, that would have been the moment that I would have tried to convince my parents that we had to move across the country. I would have been absolutely mortified.

As it was, G, our friends, and I laughed at me and we moved on.

Or I thought we had moved on until one of the friends, J, asked why that story hadn't made the blog. Good question. So here it is.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Do you want some cocktail sauce with your donuts?

I used to pass a biker bar on my way to work. They had a life-sized soldier mannequin that held a life-sized machine gun and was semi-crouched in a position that indicated he might charge. When they placed him near the road, he would often startle me as I drove past. They would also park a hearse outside that had the name of the establishment painted on its doors. I'm not sure what the message was supposed to be, but it didn't encourage me to eat anything there.

The biker bar closed a while back, and the new owners have been remodeling. They've painted the brick building coral, which is a bold choice, in my opinion. They recently put up the signs, and it turns out it will be a crab shack and bakery.

That's not a combination I would choose. Maybe it's just me, but I don't want to buy my baked goods from a crab shack. I'm interested to see if it lasts.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Moving on up

Where have I been? Good question. And the answer is . . . getting a new job!

I had applied for a different position at my current place of work a few weeks ago, and last Wednesday, the director offered it to me. After a couple of hours of feeling like G after a two-mile run (i.e., like I might throw up), I was able to get excited about it.

One of the best parts about my new position (other than the more important sounding title) is my new office. It's in a new building - so new it's not done yet - and it has a great view. I was touring the unfinished building with a colleague before the job and the office were officially mine, and she mentioned that some people work all their lives to get a window office.

I didn't say it out loud, but I was thinking, "Well, I have." I mean I may be young, but it's still my whole life.

If you know me in real life and didn't get an email telling you about my job, let me know, and I'll give you details.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006


G and I are in the midst of painting the outside of the cottage*. We got estimates from several painters for doing both the house and the cottage, and although we easily justified the cost for the house (it's tall), it was more difficult to justify having the cottage painted (it's small).

We started last weekend with priming the areas where paint had peeled off. Monday and Tuesday we painted trim, and we had planned to start on the walls tonight.

I talked to G this afternoon:
me: It's raining here, so we might not have to paint tonight.
G: Interesting choice of words. Don't you mean "might not get to paint?"
me: No, I was right the first time.

* In case you're curious, because I would be, the house and cottage will be light yellow (Weston Flax) with white trim and turquoise (Turquoise Powder) doors. The porch ceiling will be light blue (Fountain Spout), and the porch floor will be a really nice shade of green that I can't remember the name of. (All paints from Bejamin Moore.)

Monday, August 07, 2006


I have wanted to learn to surf for many moons. G has tried to help me, but I was never qutie able to get it. A couple of weeks ago, we happened to be at the beach at the same time as our neighbors. I was out on a board the wife half of our neighbors had loaned me, but I wasn't doing much - mainly just floating around (which is very nice, I might add).

It came out that the husband half of our neighbors is a great teacher (he actually is a teacher, in fact), so he and I went out in the little waves close to shore, and he patiently coaxed me into standing up. It was super-fun, and I was really excited about it.

So yesterday G and I went out. I was anxious to try out my new skills on the shore break while G surfed the real waves on the outside. The shore break, however, was not friendly. I kept nose-diving the board in a foot of water, which means that I was scraping along the bottom with my arms protecting my head from the board which was flailing around somewhere above me. It was not fun.

Once G realized I wasn't having fun (because I paddled out and told him), he encouraged me to try the real waves out where he was. So I did, and I SURFED!!! I paddled for waves, caught them, and stood up. It was awesome!

I'm totally hooked. So if quit my job and buy a van, you'll know why.

Friday, August 04, 2006

I remain champion

We played volleyball last night (yet another of those sports that G can do better than me). We aren't very good at checking the schedule, so it was a shock to our team that we would be playing two matches (three games each) instead of just one.

We had a great time in the first match. Our skill level was very close to that of the other team, so the games were fun. They were also friendly, which makes a big difference. The second match was another story. We knew we'd struggle against the team because they are much better than us.

After two games against the second team, G and our teammate T walked off the court. T sat down on the sand exclaiming her exhaustion. I called out to G as he walked away to ask him where he was going.

"To the showers."
"We only played two games. We still have one left."

G and T simultaneously groaned their disbelief. We got back out there, though, and somehow distracted the other team enough with our flailing around that they lost track of the score. While they weren't paying attention, we managed to get some points, and we ended up winning. That was just icing, because we weren't expecting that at all.

As we left, I overheard a group of guys on the bleachers wonder if the court we had been using was open. I told them that we were finished and that it was open. One of the guys asked why we weren't staying to play with them. I replied simply, "We're done."

As I walked away, I heard him say, under his breath in a flirty tone, "You're done."

Nice comeback, Romeo. What does that even mean?

By the way, the volleyball double header wore G out so much that he opted out of running this morning. I think that 2 miles might kill him again next week.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

The pigs have flown

Yesterday was a momentous day. A monumental day. An unexpectedly satisfying day.

I am more fit than my husband.

G is one of those athletic people. You know, the ones who seem to be good at every sport they try? I'm pretty coordinated myself, but he beats me at everything - tennis, raquetball, running, kite flying, surfing, ping pong, etc. . . And he beats me easily. But it's okay. He's a gracious winner - not too much smack-talking - and I've learned to live with it.

You might remember that I've been running. Well my fractions of miles have turned into miles plus fractions, which is a minor distinction, perhaps, but an oh so important one. I've been running every weekday morning, with G joining me on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Last week I ran 1.5 miles on the days G ran with me and 2 miles on Tuesday and Thursday.

This past Monday, we ran just a mile because we woke up too late to go farther. Tuesday I ran 1.5 and I told G he should join me so he could work up to 2 miles. He's a much stronger runner than I am, so his response was something along the lines of "I think I'll be able to do 2 miles without too much trouble."

That brings us to yesterday, our first 2 mile run together. It went well. I felt pretty strong for most of it (which is new for me), and as we walked back home after the run, I asked G how it was for him.

"I think I'm going to throw up."*

And that, my friends, is how I became more fit than my husband. We are so proud of me.

* G did not throw up, and he is looking forward to another 2 mile run tomorrow.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006


G and I went out for sushi over the weekend. We aren't crazy about any of the sushi places where we live, and our favorite restaurant is about 45 minutes away, so it's a treat when we go. We discovered this place when G lived close to it before we were married (the dark ages). The owner still recognizes us, and she hugs us when we come in.

We had an excellent meal, but the most memorable thing was the group sitting behind us. They were obnoxiously drunk and loud. Actually, we could really only hear one woman. Everyone may have been drunk, but she was the only loud one.

They (or at least she) were drinking sake (Japanese alcoholic beverage, pronounced sa-key). How do I know? Her frequent exclamations of "SAAAAAKEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" She couldn't stop saying this in her very smoked-three-packs-a-day-for-the-past-thirty-years voice.

She yelled at the waiter for not charging her enough. When she got up from the table, her bosom practically fell out of her shirt, and then she gave the waiter a big hug. He was smiling, but I'm not sure if that's because he liked her or because he was happy to see her go.